vicarious
by emilyforprez
Summary: but he doesn't learn any of that from finn.


A/N: I suck so bad omg. Please shoot me, this shit is awful. I was going to make it long and epic but that didn't work. So I slapped on an unfinished ending. Where has my muse gone?

* * *

She got hotter over the summer between freshman year and sophomore year and he'd be wrong to not take advantage of that. He waits with his arms folded, leaning on the hood of her car.

She doesn't even blink. "Get off my car, Puck."

He doesn't. "I'm taking you out later."

"How flattering," Quinn jeers, throwing her Cheerios bag into the passengers seat. "But that's not going to happen. Sorry." She flashes a smile that proves she's anything but sorry.

Puck finally does get off her car, but only to come around to stop just a hairbreadth in front of her. "And why not?" he demands stubbornly.

She pauses. "Because I hate you."

"I hate you, too." He grins. "That's why we'd work."

Quinn's eyebrows are raised and her arms are crossed but she might be smiling a little. "Puck, I'm pretty sure that made no sense."

He shakes his head no. It really didn't. But he's going to keep asking until she says yes.

"You're going to keep asking until I say yes, aren't you?"

He nods. He might be smiling, too.

Quinn narrows her eyes and shrugs a little halfheartedly, as if to say, _why not_? "Alright. Fine. Yes." Her eyes are green, he realizes. He's never been this close before.

"Alright?" He finally backs off a little. Maybe his smile grows a bit bigger. "Tonight, then. Breadstix."

She nods, but as he's walking away, he can hear her call after him, "It doesn't matter, though. I still hate you."

"Hate you right back, Fabray." But he doesn't. Not really. Not now.

…

"Oh, hello, Puck." Her smile is far too wide this morning.

"Fabray," he grinds out, "I hope you _realize_ that no one stands me up. _Ever._"

She slams her locker shut and gives him this look, the one that says he'll never have her, ever, so stop trying. But he'd much rather hear it from her. And keep trying, anyway; he's selfish and stubborn.

"I'm sorry." Quinn smiles prettily. She isn't sorry. "Plans came up."

"What kind of plans?" She's hurrying to her next class now, and he has to scurry after her to keep up. "And with who? There has to be a reason you blew _this_ off." It had to have been important. She _said_ "Alright." She _said _"Yes."

She shoots him a look. "Why is that any of your business?"

"Bet it was something for church," he sneers, ignoring her. "Bet your parents kept you home. Bet it was a rerun of _Christ Crusaders _–"

She whirls to face him. "It was a better offer."

"From who?" He might be a little angry.

Quinn laughs but it's probably not even funny. It's just cruel. "Finn."

When she walks away, Puck realizes he might be jealous. He might be way in over his head.

…

He learns a lot of things because his best friend is a total fucking idiot.

Quinn's lips tastes like cherries. Quinn's hands are soft. Quinn's room is pink. Quinn's bed is itchy. Quinn won't let Finn touch her ass. Quinn won't let Finn in her room past 5:00. Quinn watches the sermon channel every single night. Quinn is a vegetarian. Quinn hates cats. Quinn likes to bite her lip. Quinn likes to bite her nails.

He lists the things he's learned from Finn off in his head, one by one, and realizes he might just be a little obsessed. He might just be pathetic.

But he doesn't stop.

…

He hates the rain but he ends up standing in it outside her door with her, while they wait for her parents to come home. Puck shouldn't be here. He should be somewhere else with another girl and in a much more compromising position, but he's not.

"I blame this on you," she says, annoyed.

"Of course you do."

She's going to say she hates him again and he can't stand it, can't stand _her_, can't stand the thought of her saying it. He waits and waits and waits but she doesn't say a word.

She shivers in the cold and moves a little closer under the porch. "Tell me something," she starts quietly, barely heard above the pelting of rain.

He grunts in response. "Yeah?"

"You don't really hate me," she begins, "do you?"

Puck looks down at her. There's something there, he thinks, something she hasn't said, but she doesn't open her mouth again, and before he can reply, her phone buzzes in her pocket. He's reminded that they're far too close – he shouldn't be able to feel the vibration – so he shifts a little farther away. For her sake.

"Yes?" A pause. "Oh. No. Alright. I'm fine. Yes..." She glances at him. "Uh-huh. Yes, of course. Alright. I love you, too." Another pause. "Bye."

"They won't be home, will they?" He turns to face her. They're too far away now.

Quinn shakes her head. "No." There's a smile, then. "How do you feel about breaking in through a window?"

...

Quinn's lips tastes like strawberries, actually. Her hands are always cold. Her bed is cushy. Quinn likes it when he touches her ass and Quinn lets him in her room past midnight. Quinn likes to watch cartoons. Quinn likes dogs and Quinn's lip-bites drive him crazy.

Quinn's eyes turn brown when she's turned on.

He doesn't learn any of this from Finn.


End file.
